More Than Friends
by listrant
Summary: Molly is devastated when she overhears Sherlock making a confession of love to John...but is there something she's missed?


Molly stopped short just outside the door to the lab, which was half open, when she heard the sincerity in Sherlock's deep voice.

"This is…awkward. I'm not sure how to tell you this, but my feelings for you are…more than platonic. We've been…friends for a long time and I don't want to jeopardize that but…I would like to be more than just friends. And...I think you feel the same way, based on your behavior. I mean…I hope you feel the same way. I mean…if you don't, I understand. I mean I don't actually understand, because I feel sure that you've been sending signals. I mean, I could be wrong…no…no I couldn't. Could I? I mean…oh sod it! Do you want to…be with me or not?" Molly had never heard Sherlock sounding so unsure of himself before. She felt her face burn with embarrassment and her heart sink. She knew she should walk away now, but she just couldn't.

"Wow…" John sounded equally uncertain. His voice even seemed to be pitched a bit higher than normal. He must have been really shocked by the news. Was he not interested then? Molly bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut, praying he'd reject his friend. It was selfish and wrong, but again, she couldn't stop herself. She hated to think of Sherlock's heart getting broken, but she didn't think she could bear feigning happiness if the two men became a couple.

"WELL?!" Sherlock pressed, sounding much more like his irritable and impatient self.

"You think that's going to make me say yes? It's rather shocking news. Give me a second, damn it," John grumbled back. Sherlock sighed.

"So you…you want to date me?" John went on, tentatively.

"That's what I said," Sherlock snapped. "That's an idiotic question. Stop playing coy."

"No, it's a valid question. You've made it clear you're not the dating type. You're going to have to clarify what you mean by 'be with me,'" John responded calmly.

"Yes! Yes, I want to date you!" Sherlock exclaimed and then muttered "whatever that means" a few seconds later.

"Whatever that means? What the hell did you add that part for? That's rubbish!" John complained.

"John, please." Molly felt tears start to fill her eyes at the way Sherlock begged, sounding genuinely hurt.

"I'm sorry," John answered. "I know this sort of thing is hard for you."

Sherlock said nothing.

"Well…I like you too. I think we could give this dating thing a go," John finally continued.

There was another pregnant pause and the slight rustle of fabric.

"Can I?...Should we…now…?" Sherlock asked.

"Uhm…bit too soon? Probably a bit too soon for that…"

There was yet another short silence.

"So…did you want to uhm…ask me out for coffee or dinner or something…" John prompted.

"Oh yes. Right. Are you free for dinner tonight?" Sherlock responded.

"That sounds lovely." Molly could hear the smile in John's voice and she felt the first tear run down her cheek. That was it then. It had always been a long shot, but now all hope was gone. She'd have to learn to accept that Sherlock was gay and never going to be interested in her. Eventually. Right now she couldn't stand to face them. To hear the happy news and fake a smile. Molly hurried off down the hallway, away from the lab and Sherlock Holmes.

* * *

It was 48 hours later when Molly again found herself hesitating in the hallway outside of the lab. She'd left work immediately after overhearing Sherlock and John's conversation and then called in sick the following day to avoid seeing them. She'd have liked to call in today as well, or every day for the rest of her life, but her employers probably wouldn't appreciate that and she needed a job, especially since now it was all she had.

_No. Stop._ she told herself. She had to stop thinking like that. She had to stop mourning the loss of something she'd never actually had. But it had been a nice fantasy. Such a nice daydream to escape to whenever she needed it.

_Enough._ She mentally screamed. She was going to be fine. She'd get over this.

Molly heard no sound coming from the lab, but the lights were on. They were always left on during the day though, so that told her nothing. Unfortunately she couldn't see around the door and into the room without making her presence known to whoever might be inside. She took a deep breath and forced herself to walk in, silently praying the room would be empty.

It wasn't.

Sherlock was pipetting a green solution onto a petri dish and John was staring at the large book which was open in front of him on the lab bench. They both looked up when Molly walked in.

"Good morning, Molly," John greeted warmly. As always, Molly felt Sherlock's assessing gaze systematically sweep down her body.

"Hi, hello, morning!" Molly winced as the words burst from her lips too quickly and then wouldn't stop.

"Are you feeling better? Mike said you were out sick yesterday," John continued.

"Oh! Yes! Better! Fine. Thanks." Molly glanced to Sherlock and was surprised to find his eyes still on her. She watched him draw in a breath, as if to say something, but it never came. She looked away quickly and went to grab the blood sample she'd been analyzing for an autopsy. The trio worked in relative silence for upwards of an hour, but Molly didn't miss the wordless exchanges between Sherlock and John when they thought she wasn't looking. There was a lot of throat clearing, head shaking, words mouthed at an angle she couldn't read.

"Molly," Sherlock finally began and Molly felt herself jump.

"Yes? What? Uh huh?" She blurted much too quickly and she noticed the way Sherlock's brows shot up and he and John exchanged a look.

"Could you plate these solutions on nutrient media and incubate them at 90 degrees?"

"Oh," the word sounded like a sigh, as Molly let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Yes. Yes, I can do that. Of course." As she drew near to collect the solutions, she saw Sherlock give a slight head shake and John responded with an exasperated sigh. The room descended into silence once again. They were obviously disagreeing over something. When to tell her about their new relationship? That must be it.

Just as Molly was finishing Sherlock's assignment, John jumped up from his seat and stretched dramatically.

"Ahh…I'm stiff as a board. Sitting too long, no doubt. I think I'll go have a walk down to the lobby…and maybe grab a bite while I'm out…it's nearly noon," he said. Sherlock rolled his eyes with annoyance as John left, but his expression shifted as he and Molly made eye contact immediately afterwards. This was it. Molly just knew this was it. She felt his big confession coming. She couldn't take it. Not yet.

"I…you know what? I really have to…have to go, too. I've got something," Molly paused and gestured lamely towards the door. "...Something that I…have to…right now. Sorry. I'll…see you…er…yes…I…bye," she barely managed before bolting out the door.

* * *

_Not again. Oh no, this could not be happening to her again. _

It was a few hours later and Molly had to return to the lab to pull her blood sample out of the incubator. Such a simple task. But no, it couldn't be because she'd somehow managed to sneak up on the doctor and the detective yet again. _That's it, from now on I'm wearing heels. Loud, clacking heels._ She thought, but was distracted by the conversation in the lab. Curiosity killed the cat and it would undoubtedly be the death of her as well.

Molly only caught the last word of what John was saying.

"…stalling."

"I'm not. No, not today, John. I can't tell her today. Something's wrong. She wasn't sick."

Oh god, were they talking about her? They must be…_she wasn't sick_…of course Sherlock would see through that lie. _Can't tell her today._ So she'd been right, they disagreed over when to reveal their relationship to her.

"What?" John did indeed sound very irritated.

"Didn't you see? So much make-up. Trying to hide that she's been crying. And the way she acted? Jumpy and unfocused. Talking so fast and so much, but never really saying anything. Something's wrong." Sherlock's tone was so familiar…the typical "why are you such a blind idiot" frustration that he adopted every time he spilled out a deduction.

"What?" John repeated.

"I don't know." Molly imagined Sherlock fluffing up his curls the way he sometimes did when he used that tortured tone. Nothing worse than not knowing.

"I still think you're just procrastinating..." John chided.

"I'm not! Look, this is not your…I'm beginning to wish I'd never told you how I felt in the first place!" Sherlock's words were punctuated by the clinking of glass and light footsteps. Molly imagined Sherlock putting down whatever he'd been working on and starting to pace the room.

"Well that hurt." John made it obvious he was joking, teasing, but there was a hint of sincerity to the words.

"Yes, I know this is all very difficult _for you_. Realizing you're in love and facing possible rejection for the first time in your life when you confess your feelings."

"In love? You're in love? You've never put it that way before…" John sounded stunned, amazed.

"Semantics. You ought to have inferred as much from what I've said…" Sherlock's voice was a bit louder and Molly felt her stomach flip at the thought that he might soon be in view of the door and discover her.

"I know…it's just…strange to hear you say the words."

There was an awkward pause.

"I mean strange in a good way. It's nice," John backpedaled.

"Yes. Well. Strange as it may be, I'm asking you to let me take this…at my own speed and in my own way." Sherlock sounded a bit insulted and a little…embarrassed. It was hard to be sure because Molly'd never heard him sound that way.

"Fine. That's fine. I'm sorry, I won't push you anymore. You just let me know when you want to talk to her and I'll clear out." Molly wondered why they'd decided Sherlock should be the one to tell her. He seemed to be the one insisting on it. It made sense since he was the one she'd been infatuated with for all this time, but it was uncharacteristically considerate of him to recognize that.

"Not today," Sherlock repeated firmly.

"Speaking from experience, it won't be any easier for you tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the day after that."

"And as I've told you, and as astonishing as it may be to you, it's not myself I'm concerned about," Sherlock snapped. Obviously, Sherlock _was_ trying very hard to be kind to her and he was angry that John wasn't giving him due credit.

"You're right, that is astonishing. Love's ruined you. Oh how the mighty fall…" John trailed off on a chuckle.

"Shut up, John."

The room fell silent.

Molly fought the urge to release the breath she'd been holding in a rush. _Not today._ She felt so relieved. She didn't have to hear the words, not today. One more day of peace. She crept back a few steps and then coughed loudly and rustled through the papers in her arms as she practically stomped into the lab.

They were quite good, she thought, as she noticed how casual and innocently normal they both acted, as if they hadn't just been discussing smashing her heart into a million pieces. John gave her a closed lip smile and Sherlock's eyes flicked up only briefly as she crossed the room.

The rest of the day passed quickly for Molly, now that she was no longer bubbling over with anxiety over the possible confession coming at any moment. John and Sherlock stayed only a few more hours, Sherlock insisting he needed to go collect some more samples as they rushed out the door.

* * *

The following morning found Molly in the morgue, working through her checklist on a standard post mortem. It was a cancer patient from upstairs, no cutting required, just the usual formalities.

She heard the door swing open and spun around to find Sherlock staring at her, from just inside the door way. Why he'd stopped there instead of his usual method of barging right in like he owned the place was a mystery.

"Uhm, hello," Molly said, clutching her clipboard to her chest in a subconscious attempt at protecting her heart.

Sherlock hesitated for a moment before answering. This interaction was getting more bizarre by the second and it made Molly's pulse start to race. _Oh no. Not now. Then, when? Would she ever be ready for this?_

"Hello, Molly," he finally responded simply. Molly raised her eyebrows and cocked her head slightly, prompting him to go on, but he didn't and silence stretched between them like a chasm. The room suddenly seemed miles wide.

"Where's…uhm…where's John?" Molly finally asked.

"He's…not with me."

In spite of the tension, Molly couldn't help her chuckle.

"Yes, I can see that," she mumbled, pulling the clipboard down again and turning to go back to her work. She wasn't about to make this easier for him. It was a struggle, but Molly managed to get back to her task even with Sherlock wandering aimlessly around the room, which is what he did for the next 20 minutes. He was obviously stalling, as John had said. Finally, Molly was pushing the body back into its drawer and putting the final signature on her documents. Sherlock had ambled much closer and was now standing right on the other side of the drawer as she pushed its door closed.

"Molly…"Sherlock finally started.

"Did you need to see a body?" Molly asked, feeling bad for playing dumb, but unable to stop herself regardless.

"No, I…"

"Hm? Just a part for an experiment then? I'm afraid I don't have much at the moment…but I can go check." She started to turn away.

"No," Sherlock laid a hand on her arm to still her. "I don't need…anything…"

"Just bored then? Did John kick you out for being a pest at the flat again?" Molly realized that she was determined not to let him finish, not to let him get it out.

"No," Sherlock shook his head once as he said the word this time, putting more force behind it. "Molly…I don't kno-"

"I have to go…to the loo," Molly cut him off sharply.

"What…right now?" Sherlock asked, incredulous.

"Yes. Right now." _He couldn't very well argue with that, now could he?_

"A-alright…?"

Molly turned and headed for the door, biting back a smile at the complete and utter confusion on Sherlock's face. She, Molly Hooper, had baffled Sherlock Holmes. And she felt ridiculously proud of herself as she walked right past the loo and went to visit a friend in radiology for the rest of the morning. Not a choice that her boss would be thrilled about, but desperate times..

The rest of the day somehow slowly dissolved into an elaborate game of hide and seek. At lunch, Molly anticipated that Sherlock might stake out her favorite deli, so she went to her second favorite, a Thai place, instead. That seemed like a wise decision until, while standing in the queue, she noticed John Watson, staked out in a corner table, texting furiously. Molly didn't have any doubts over to whom. She took got her meal to go, although she preferred to eat in, and ate her lunch in the park, since Sherlock would expect her to go right back to Bart's. She was feeling rather smug about her subterfuge as she returned to work, when she turned a corner and spotted Sherlock lingering just outside the morgue doors. She quickly turned around and thought for a second. He'd wait at the morgue for a while and, if he didn't see her come in, assume he'd been wrong and go check in the lab. Unless he'd planted John in the lab. Either way he was unlikely to actually enter the morgue again, since he clearly thought it was empty. Luckily, there was a back way into the morgue, which involved cutting through the women's locker room. She took that route and then quietly slipped into the office to finish the day's paperwork. Her plan was apparently successful since she didn't run into Sherlock for the rest of her shift.

* * *

Molly congratulated herself on outsmarting the genius consulting detective as she pulled on her coat and made her way toward the lift at the end of the day. _That really wasn't so hard_, she thought. _He must be losing his touch. Or perhaps she was a genius._

That happy little thought had just run through her mind when a blur of gray fabric and brown curls flew through the lift doors seconds before they closed. _Crap and double crap._

"Oh…hello, Sher-" Molly started, but he cut her off.

"You've been avoiding me. Being alone with me," Sherlock sounded puzzled, and maybe just a bit angry. Molly felt his eyes on her, but she avoided eye contact with him.

"No…I haven't! Why would I do that? That's silly. We're alone right now." Molly struggled unsuccessfully to keep her voice from shaking.

"Yes. Because I hid round a corner and jumped on a lift," Sherlock deadpanned.

Molly shrugged and kept her eyes on the illuminated numbers at the top of the lift.

Sherlock pressed the emergency stop button.

"Molly…please. There's something I need to tell you."

"No….no you don't need to tell me anything, because I already know what you're going to say. And it's fine. Really, it's fine."

Molly spared Sherlock enough of a glance to see his brow furrow at her words.

"It's fine?" he asked.

"Yes. Think no more about it. I'm very happy for you."

"Happy for me?"

"And John."

"What?"

"I'm happy for John, too. He's…a very lucky man." Molly's voice broke on the last word and she forced a cough to try to cover it up.

"You mean…Mary? You know about Mary?"

"Who's Mary?"

"I…it doesn't matter."

There was a long pause before Sherlock broke the silence.

"But…how do you feel…about…me?"

Feeling as though she'd missed something, Molly finally looked up to search his eyes out of desperate confusion, but she found only her own emotions reflected back to her.

"I told you. I'm happy for you."

Sherlock groaned in frustration.

"We seem to be…talking in circles," he said, spinning away from her and pacing the few steps of space the tiny car allowed, before returning to her side. "This really isn't how I planned on this going and now I'm…unsure of how to proceed. Should I…do you mind if I just say what I'd planned to?"

"I really just wish you wouldn't say another thing about it."

"Oh…I see. I didn't realize…I won't bother you with it again." Sherlock reached over and slammed the emergency brake button and the lift started up again.

"Thank you," Molly squeaked, barely able to contain her tears. They had to endure only a few moments of tense silence before the lift doors slid open, but to Molly it felt like an eternity. Her heart was racing and her chest hurt. She felt horrible. She knew she owed Sherlock more than that. After so many years of friendship, all the times he'd saved her from danger, he deserved to be able to confide in her. He deserved her support and understanding. She had no right to selfishly try to save herself the pain by causing him some. He probably thought she didn't approve of his being gay. What if he didn't come in to Bart's anymore? What if she never saw him again? It was that thought that caused her to run after him. He'd hurried out of the lift the moment the doors opened and, after just a few moments of hesitation on her part, he'd managed to make it all the way out the hospital doors and onto the street before she caught up with him. Molly bolted down the steps and onto the wet pavement, ignoring the rain as she called his name. Mercifully, Sherlock stopped and allowed her to catch up.

"Sherlock, I'm sorry!" She gasped, out of breath now, partially from running and partially because she was starting to cry. "Please tell me whatever you wanted to say back there. I was afraid…that it would hurt me to hear it, but that's my problem, not yours. I don't want you to think you have to hide who you are or how you feel to spare my feelings. I'm your friend and I will never judge you and I will always support you in…whatever you choose to do in your life. So…what did you want to say? I'm listening."

But she wasn't listening. She couldn't be; she was sobbing too hard now. Sherlock watched in silence until Molly's crying began to subside.

"What did you think…? No…I've improvised enough tonight and look where it's gotten us. Best to follow the script…" he finally said.

"What?"

"Never mind," Sherlock turned and laid a hand on Molly's back, urging her forward. "Let's walk."

"Alright…"

"Let me…don't say anything until I'm finished, deal?" he asked. Molly nodded.

"This is awkward…actually, much more awkward now than I even anticipated. I'm not sure how to tell you this…god knows I've just tried and failed miserably…no….I AM stalling now. Damn, I hate when he's right…" Sherlock trailed off for just a second. He took a deep breath and his next words came out in a rush and on a single breath.

"I'm not sure how to tell you this, but my feelings for you are more than platonic."

Molly stopped short as she began to realize that his words were oddly familiar. Sherlock went on a few more steps before realizing she'd fallen out of pace. He hurried back and looked down at her.

"Oh god," Molly gasped when he reached her.

Sherlock drew a shaky breath. "Molly, we agreed. Please let me finish."

"Sorry," she whispered.

"As you said, we've been friends for a long time and I don't want to jeopardize that but…I would like to be more than just friends. And I think you feel the same way, based on your behavior. I mean…I hope you feel the same way. If you don't…I will…try to…understand. So, do you want to be with me or not?"

"You changed that last bit, about understanding," Molly said simply.

"Yes, John thought that it was…what? How do you know that?"

"I liked it better before…it sounded more like you…" Molly was grinning from ear to ear now.

Sherlock just stared back at her, a completely dumbstruck look on his face.

"I'm sorry. I'm making it harder. Let me…" Molly paused a second before going on.

"Wow…" she said in an astonished voice, but she was still smiling.

"This is…where you give me time to think?" Molly asked, when he didn't respond. Sherlock nodded dumbly. Molly paused for a few seconds.

"So you…you want to date me?" she finally went on.

"Yes…yes I want to date you," Sherlock filled in mechanically, catching on now. He waited for Molly to deliver her next line but it didn't come. She sighed.

"You're not done…I'd like the original version…" she prompted.

"Whatever that means?" Sherlock murmured the words as a question. Molly giggled and nodded.

"Well…I love you too. Maybe we could give this dating thing a go?"

"That wasn't _exactly_ your line."

"John got it wrong. I fixed it."

"You heard," Sherlock said drily. Molly nodded. "And you thought that I was telling John…" She nodded again. "And that's why you said you were happy for us…and why you didn't want me to tell you…"

"Uh huh…"

There was a pause.

"Are you-" Sherlock finally started up again, but Molly cut him off.

"No…John got that part wrong as well," she said, stepping closer to him and sliding her arms up around his neck. "It's not a bit too soon."

Sherlock hesitated, his gaze bouncing around the empty street nervously. Molly nudged his head down as she slid up against him on her tippy toes and their lips met gently. Sherlock's were completely closed and Molly took his bottom lip between her own, tugging lightly. He got the message and Molly Hooper finally got her first taste of Sherlock Holmes. It immediately became clear to her that a taste was not enough and Molly urged Sherlock back when he tried to pull away. He readily obeyed.

"Are you free for dinner tonight?" Sherlock murmured against her lips.

"Are you free for shagging tonight?"

"You're supposed to say 'that sounds lovely'" Sherlock chided.

"That sounds lovely. Are you free for shagging after dinner?"

"John said we should take it slow."

"We can do that slowly," Molly insisted with a smirk.

Sherlock laughed out loud and grabbed Molly's hand, leading her down the rain slicked street.

* * *

Farther back down the street, a car door opened and a tall man stepped out to meet the shorter figure which emerged from the shadows beside the hospital doors.

"It seems you've been replaced," Mycroft Holmes drawled as he watched the pair ahead move farther and farther away.

"No that…that was never my place," Dr. Watson answered calmly.

"I thought you were trouble when you showed up, but this, this is worse."

"What?"

"Sherlock Holmes and Molly Hooper."

John let out a short laugh and turned to walk away.

"Where are you going?" Mycroft called after him.

"I have a date. And he's not coming," John answered, pointing back down the street with happy astonishment. "He's not coming. Or calling! Or texting! Or actually even existing for the rest of the evening as far as I'm concerned!"

The army doctor walked off, still lightly chuckling under his breath.

"Hmm…" Mycroft sneered as he got back into his town car and it pulled away into the night.

* * *

_This fic is in response to a prompt by creamocrop on tumblr, so I want to give a huge thank you to her for the first prompt that has ever inspired me enough to take it! Thanks for letting me run with your idea!_

_Also, I want to thank all the other lovely people on tumblr who liked/reblogged/commented on the fic when I originally posted it as a three part series over there. (I've got the same username over there and I will sometimes post fics there first, or also extras or outtakes or commentaries on my fics. So please follow me there if you're interested in any of that.)_

_As always, reviews are much appreciated. :)_


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